Autumn in New York
by criminalkeen
Summary: Rachel tells Donna about the panic attacks, Louis drinks way too much eggnog, and Harvey decides to make a radical change. One-shot, total fluff, includes most of the cast. Harvey/Donna with a touch of Louchel (I'm not even remotely sorry).


**Author's Note: I'm gonna be straight with you: this is probably the worst thing I've ever written in terms of writing quality. BUT, it's got some funny moments and lots of Harvey and Donna, and it'll give you something to do while you're waiting for the next episode. So there.**

{ PANIC }

" _I wanted to thank you."_

" _For what?"_

" _For twelve years."_

It was only a brief exchange, and yet it had echoed through Donna's mind for _months_. The more she called forth the memory, the less confidence she had in its veracity. Had he really smiled after he said it? Perhaps a slight upturn of the lips, but surely not an all-out grin. Where were his hands? On the edge of her desk? No, he hadn't been that close. Were they in his pockets? Maybe. Surely that meant something, right?

 _No, Donna...probably not_.

She had just reached the cafe, the door jingling merrily as a blast of crisp air practically chased her inside. There was something magical about autumn in New York, even on days like today. Somehow, despite the chill and the cloudy skies, the wet sidewalks plastered with leaves and the endless chorus of tires sloshing through muddy puddles, the city managed to be magical and romantic and miserable all at the same time.

"I ordered you a latte; I hope that's okay," her coffee date chimed cheerfully as Donna slid into the booth across from her.

"That depends. Is it hazelnut, with––"

"Extra whipped cream? Come on, Donna. How long have we been friends?"

Donna smiled. "This is _why_ we're friends." She paused to take a long sip of coffee, relishing the rather sizeable glob of whipped cream that came with it. "Soooo, let's talk wedding, shall we?"

"No _this_ is why we're friends," Rachel corrected. "I've had nothing but wedding on my brain for the past four months and not only have you _not_ had me murdered yet, but here you are, bringing it up in conversation." She froze suddenly. "Oh God, am I marrying the wrong person?"

"Honey, you couldn't afford my dream wedding. Come to think of it...I don't know if anyone could," Donna laughed.

 _Harvey probably could_ , Rachel thought, but she bit her tongue. "Well, the only major thing we still need to nail down is the caterer. Which is weird, because I always figured that would be the _first_ thing we would nail down."

"Did you visit that place on Atlantic Avenue I told you about?"

"Not yet. I'm waiting for Mike...I mean, I know that _I'm_ the foodie, and he'd probably be happy serving ramen noodles and _boxed wine_ , but I don't know...it just feels weird to make these decisions without him, you know? He's just been under so much stress lately, with his own cases and then with everything Harvey's been going through…"

"Hold on. What do you mean, 'everything Harvey's been going through?'"

 _Shit_. "Well, you know, I just meant that… oh screw it. I can't lie to you." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Harvey's been having panic attacks."

Donna's mouth suddenly felt very dry. "What?"

"But I mean, I think he's getting better, and the therapy is helping…"

"Harvey's been seeing a therapist? Since when?"

"Since you...since you went to work for Louis. Oh God. I...I'm so sorry Donna, I thought you knew everything."

Donna let out a shaky breath. "So did I."

She remembered little of the rest of their conversation, or of her trip back to the office. How could he keep this from her? Over the past several months their interactions had become much more frequent and much less strained. Gone was the latent anger that used to hang in the air between them, the constant fidgeting of fingers, the refusal to make eye contact, the days upon days of stony silence. It had started with a long overdue "thank you" and progressed to a steady stream of warm smiles and light jesting, office gossip and the occasional but sincere inquiry about the wellbeing of family members. One day he'd even complimented her on her dress. It seemed as if things were almost approaching some semblance of normalcy...and now this.

She eased into her chair and stared blankly at her computer screen, imagining Harvey having a panic attack. The first time it happened he must have felt so afraid.

And so alone.

* * *

She found Mike in the library, pouring over some ancient tome of cases long forgotten.

"I'm a little busy right now."

"This'll just take a minute."

"I don't have a minute."

Donna sighed, dropping abruptly into the chair opposite him. "I know about Harvey's panic attacks," she whispered.

Mike looked up, his expression weary.

"Look. I don't know what happened between you two, but I'm warning you Donna: stay away. He's been through enough, and I'm not going to let you mess with him."

"I'm not messing with him, Mike. I think I can make them stop. Please, just...call me if it happens again, okay?"

Mike slammed down his pen. "What makes you think _you_ can make them stop?" he hissed. "You _started_ all this when you left him to work for Louis. You know, at first I thought all he needed was a new secretary. And then he got Gretchen, and Gretchen is fantastic...hell, she may even be better than you. But no, that wasn't what Harvey needed. He needs _you_ , Donna. And if you have no intention of ever going back to him, then I'm telling you: you need to stay. the hell. away. Now if you don't mind." He returned his attention to his book.

Donna watched him cautiously for a moment before slipping a hand over his. She felt his muscles tense, his fingers swiftly forming a fist. "I'm asking you to trust me, Mike," she said gently. "I promise, I won't hurt him." As she walked away, she could have sworn she heard him mumble "again."

When a couple weeks passed without any word from Mike, Donna figured he'd decided not to call her, probably out of some misguided notion of protecting Harvey. It was either that, or the off chance that nothing had happened lately to trigger an attack.

Of course, when Jack Soloff strolled smugly out of Louis's office three days later after leveling some rather serious threats at him and his "boyfriend Harvey," Donna knew that she would likely get her answer soon. As Louis scurried off to tell Harvey, she remained anchored to her desk, her fingertips lightly tracing the buttons on her phone.

Ten minutes later, Louis returned. And Donna's phone rang.

"It's happening," was all Mike said before hanging up. She was on her feet the second she set down the receiver.

Moving hastily, she caught him slipping into the men's room at the end of the hall. She had almost reached the door when she found her way stubbornly blocked by her own replacement.

"Trust me Ms. Paulsen, you don't wanna go in there."

"I can help him, Gretchen."

"Look, I know I haven't been here very long but trust me when I say that this ain't my first rodeo. Now that man in there is never gonna get better unless you give him some space and time to _move on_."

"And with all due respect, I _know_ Harvey. Please...just...help me help him."

Gretchen stared at her for a moment, scrutinizing her intent, before sighing and stepping aside. "I sure do hope you know what you're doing. I'll watch the door."

She found him doubled over the sink, his tie loose and beads of sweat gathering at his temples. He was breathing rapidly, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the countertop. He looked miserable.

He caught her reflection in the mirror and almost gagged. "Get...out...of here... I don't want...you to see me...like this." He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, she was by his side.

"Look at me, Harvey." He shook his head, still gasping for air. She cupped his cheek with one hand, nudging his face toward hers. "Look at me." She stepped behind him, prompting him to turn around so that his back was to the sink. He raised his gaze cautiously to meet hers as she cupped his face with both hands. "Good. Now listen to me: I'm right here, okay? I'm right here. Breathe with me." He nodded, and she took deep, slow, breaths until his breathing began to match hers.

Once he was breathing evenly again, she slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. She felt his hands press shakily against her back.

She had expected the panic attack to stop. After all, she _was_ Donna. She could fix anything. What she _hadn't_ expected was the breakdown that followed, as the once indomitable Harvey Specter dissolved into quiet sobs, his tears pooling at the base of her neck as he buried his face in her hair. "I'm right here," she repeated lamely, stroking the back of his head. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him cry. It also wouldn't be the last.

She could feel him relax against her. When he pulled away, she grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at his face. He laughed. "I'm a mess."

"You kind of are."

"I never wanted you to find out about this."

"But I did."

"Donna, this isn't your fault."

"I know. But I should have been here for you."

"I'm the one who started treating you like shit."

"And I'm the one who usually fights for us no matter what. I was just...I was just so _tired_. But I'm telling you now Harvey: I may not _always_ be able to be there for you, but I will sure as hell try. Because we're family, and that's what family does."

He nodded, wiping away the last of his tears with the back of his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And now enough of this. You are _Harvey Specter_. Jack Soloff isn't even half the man you are. Everything is going to be okay. Got it?"

Harvey smiled and looked away, suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment. "Got it."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I need to go make Louis a mudding appointment before he winds up in a similar state."

Harvey chuckled as she made her way to the door. "Mike asked me to be his best man," he blurted out randomly. She turned slowly to face him.

"Rachel asked me to be her maid of honor."

"Oh? Well...I'm looking forward to it."

She could tell he was fishing. After all, if this were a normal day in their previous life, she would have grilled him on who he was bringing as his date. She decided to bite. "Me too. So... which lucky gal gets to be Harvey Specter's plus one?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. I guess I could ask Gretchen. Or maybe I should bring my shrink," he joked. "How about you? Are you...seeing someone?"

"I was planning on going alone," she replied nonchalantly. "Maybe we could ride together?"

"I'd like that," Harvey said, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great then, it's a da––er...it's a...ride."

Harvey smiled. "I'm okay with calling it a date."

"A date it is, then." She returned his smile and slipped quickly out of the men's room, throwing a wink at a very curious Gretchen before marching coolly back to her desk. The thing was, Donna Paulsen felt anything but cool.

* * *

{ METAMORPHOSIS }

The next morning she arrived at her desk to find nothing short of a small crowd waiting for her. Gretchen, Mike, and Rachel straightened when they saw her. She eyed them suspiciously as she circled around her desk and took her seat.

"Um...can I help you?"

"What-did-you-do-to-Harvey?" the three crowed in unison, leaning in and propping their elbows on the edge of her desk to provide some measure of privacy.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's even more insufferable than he was before," Mike complained. "He actually came in _whistling_ this morning and before I could even say anything, he told me he liked my tie."

"Oh...kay? I don't––"

"Oh yeah? Well he brought _me_ a box of chocolates and told me I should use up some of my vacation time to go see my grandkids," Gretchen followed, her expression streaked with concern.

"Pfft, that's nothing. He told _me_ to take the day off...to grab Mike and spend the day visiting caterers."

Donna leaned back in her chair and looked at her three co-workers appraisingly. "I don't understand."

Rachel laughed. "Don't you see? He's _happy_ , Donna. And well, what we want to know is…"

"How long is it gonna last?" Gretchen finished.

As if on cue, an angry voice rang out behind them. "What do you three think you're doing?"

"Didn't even last past breakfast," Mike grumbled as he turned to face Harvey.

"I thought I told you all to scram," Harvey said with a grin. "It's a beautiful day out there. Nothing beats autumn in New York."

"Mr. Specter, I'm gonna have to insist on taking your temperature."

"Nonsense Gretchen. Go on, get out of here. All of you."

The three backed away slowly, giving him a wide berth as if whatever ailed him was somehow contagious. Mike cast one last concerned look at Donna as they hurried down the hall, still reeling from their unexpected freedom.

"Nothing beats autumn in New York?" Donna repeated quizzically.

"You know most people associate spring with new beginnings," Harvey said thoughtfully. "But I always felt that way about fall."

Donna nodded. "It's a time for family."

"And forgiveness."

She could see where he was going, but the timing felt off. "Forgiveness takes time," she replied, somewhat tersely.

"I suppose it does. Anyway, I was hoping to make an appointment with Louis," he continued.

"An appointment? I thought barging into each other's office was your and Louis's 'thing.'"

"Not today," Harvey said simply.

"Oh. Well, he's available after 2:00…"

"2:00 sounds fine." He gave the edge of her desk a cheerful pat. "Thank you Donna." And just like that he was gone.

* * *

When 2:00 rolled around, she shut the intercom off. For the first time in her secretarial career, Donna Paulsen didn't feel like eavesdropping. Not on _him_. It just didn't feel right anymore. Instead she busied herself with clearing Louis's schedule for a brand new experience: a spa had just opened nearby that catered to both humans _and_ their feline companions. In other words, it had "Louis" written all over it.

When Harvey left twenty minutes later, she found her new boss in a state of panic.

"Donna, get in here immediately."

"What is it?"

"You heard."

"No, I didn't. I wasn't listening."

"Well then I need you to be straight with me, Donna. Promise you'll be straight with me."

"I promise! What's going on?"

"Is Harvey dying?"

"What?!"

"Is. Harvey. dying," he repeated slowly, his bushy eyebrows contorted in worry. When she simply stared at him, he dropped his face into his hands. "Shit, I knew it. I knew it! What is it? Cancer? TB?"

"No! No, Louis. Harvey isn't dying."

"He's not?"

"No! He's not."

"Then explain to me why Mr. Harvey Bigshot Specter would come in here and offer to give me his top three clients, saying that he needed to 'lighten his workload.'"

"I...I don't know, Louis. But there must be some explanation. I promise you, Harvey's not dying."

He _was_ , however, acting very strangely. Even when he had returned to "normal" (i.e., strutting around and barking orders at everyone within earshot), Mike reported large chunks of time where Harvey would simply go missing, leaving him and Gretchen utterly clueless as to his whereabouts. When Donna suggested that he'd been seeing his therapist, Mike shook his head. He hadn't been to see Paula since before his last panic attack, he said. And when she accosted his driver one chilly afternoon in November, Ray claimed that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in weeks. That he'd been _driving himself_ , of all things.

One by one, Harvey's friends confessed their fears to Jessica. And one by one, she answered them the same: "Have you talked to _Harvey_ about this?" No, of course they hadn't. Eventually, when Jessica had built up a healthy curiosity of her own, she sought him out at their usual rendezvous: the roof of the building.

"It's been awhile since I've seen you up here," Harvey greeted.

"Too long, I'd say. And too long since you and I have had a proper conversation." She paused. "Your friends are worried about you, Harvey."

"Are they?" he asked with mild surprise.

"They think you're dying."

He pivoted to face her, his eyes full of humor. "And what about you? What do you think?"

"I think you're seeing someone." When Harvey's smile turned into a smirk, she took it as confirmation of her theory. "Good for you, Harvey. What's her name?"

"Kimberly."

"Kimberly? I never took you as the type to date a Kimberly."

"Well you're right, because we're not dating. She's my real estate agent."

"Real estate? Harvey Specter, you better not be planning to leave me because so help me God, if I have to make Jack Soloff a name partner I'd might as well jump off this roof right now."

Harvey laughed. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere. I just...have you ever thought about settling down?"

Jessica thought for a moment. "Yes. But only when I thought I had someone to settle down _with_."

"Well, I think I found someone to settle down with."

Comprehension flashed across his partner's face. "And does she know this?"

"Not yet."

"Well then don't you think you're being just a bit presumptuous?"

"Let's just say it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Oh Harvey." She shook her head in wonder at the man that stood before her. Was this how mothers felt when their sons got married? It was like her baby had finally grown up. She gave his arm a squeeze. "Just don't wait too long," she said before she walked away.

* * *

{ HARVEY'S HOUSE }

"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?" Donna asked. They'd been driving outside the city for nearly 40 minutes. It had begun to snow lightly, and she was starting to wonder if she should have packed an overnight bag.

"That would sort of defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, wouldn't it?" Harvey said. "But if it helps, we're just about there." He turned down a narrow gravel driveway lined with fir trees, stopping to pull open a black cast iron gate. The drive wound about for about a quarter of a mile before emerging into a clearing, where there sat a stately white farm house with black shutters and a large, wrap-around porch. It had been decorated for Christmas with garland strung along the porch railing and tiny wreaths adorning each of the windows, each of which were lit with an electric candle.

Harvey brought them to a stop outside a small detached garage, pausing to pull on his gloves before circling around to open the passenger door.

Donna eyed the house curiously as she stepped out into the snow. She could tell that Harvey was watching her, but she still hadn't figured out why.

"So... what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

"About the house, silly."

"It's...it's beautiful. Whose is it?"

Harvey smiled. For a woman who claimed to know everything, Donna had sure missed a lot of things lately. "It's mine. Or at least, it will be, on Friday. I wanted to get your opinion before I went through with it."

"I don't understand. This is _yours_? But...why?"

Harvey shrugged. "Felt it was time for a change of pace. Do you like it?"

"Harvey, I...I don't know what to say. It's perfect."

"You wanna look inside? I mean, it's empty, but..."

"Of course."

Harvey stooped to retrieve a key from where Kimberly had left it underneath one of the two large pots of poinsettias that framed the entranceway. "In case you were wondering, I had nothing to do with this," Harvey said, gesturing to the decorations. "My realtor thought it would help the house sell quicker."

Donna nodded, unsure of what to say...or what to think, for that matter. If he had meant to throw her off guard, he had certainly succeeded. For God's sake, a _house_? Harvey Specter had bought a house. Had he gone off the deep end?

No. If one thing became apparent to Donna Paulsen that afternoon, it was that _she_ was the one who had gone off the deep end. From the moment she set foot in the house, her mind was flooded with daydreams. Possibilities. What-ifs. Normally she would gush over the gorgeous wood floors, the rugged stone fireplace, the large windows that let light stream into every room. Instead, she saw a series of vignettes: her and Harvey, cuddled up in front of the fire, her and Harvey, reading bedtime stories to their daughter, her and Harvey, drinking coffee and exchanging sections of the newspaper, her and Harvey, decorating the Christmas tree with little ones running underfoot…

"Donna?"

She inhaled sharply and shook her head in a half-hearted attempt to jar herself back to reality. "I uh...I'm sorry, Harvey. What were you saying?"

"I was saying that my furniture won't work in a house like this. In fact, what this place could really use is a woman's touch. So I was wondering…" He fished a credit card out of his wallet. "If you and Rachel would be willing to help me out."

"You want us to…"

"Decorate. I trust your taste."

"The entire house?"

"The entire house." Grabbing a pen from his shirt pocket, he scribbled something on the back of one of his business cards and handed it to her. "Here's the address. Have stuff delivered. Just let me know if I need to be here for something."

"Harvey, are you sure you don't want any say in what goes in here?"

"Like I said: I trust you. If you like it, I'm probably going to like it."

"What's the timeline?"

"I was hoping to do some entertaining for Christmas."

"Christmas?! Harvey, that's only four weeks away!"

"Then I guess you ladies had better get busy shopping. And here, take this one too," he offered a second credit card. "It has a higher limit."

"Harvey wait. Are you okay?" Donna asked, staring dumbly at the thousands of dollars worth of plastic in her hand. "You're acting _really_ strange."

Harvey shrugged. "Never been better. Wanna grab a bite to eat before we head back? There's a little diner just up the road."

"Uh...sure, sounds great!" she chirped, attempting to mask her confusion with cheerful enthusiasm.

What was going _on_? The man she was with was _not_ the Harvey Specter she knew. It was as if she was climbing into the car with a complete stranger. Suddenly a million questions bubbled to the forefront of her mind, a few of which managed to squeak past her lips. "Does this have something to do with why you've been gone so much this past month? And why you offered to give Louis your three biggest clients?"

"I guess you could say I had an epiphany," Harvey said thoughtfully.

"An epiphany," she repeated skeptically.

"Donna, you more than anyone know that I've spent my entire career in pursuit of one goal: to be the best."

"Yeah, and Harvey...you did it. You _are_ the best."

"Mostly thanks to you, I might add. But once I became the best, all I could do was obsess over _staying_ the best. Because at the end of the day, that was all I had. Everything else I had either lost, or been too busy to find in the first place."

"You had me."

"And then I lost you. And I realized...I don't wanna be the best anymore. Not when it comes at the expense of the people I care about."

A silence fell between them, one that begged to be filled with heartfelt confessions, calm reassurances, soft touches. Instead, Donna and Harvey did what Donna and Harvey do best: steadily avoid addressing anything involving their own muddled emotions. In mere moments, Donna had already ventured to change the subject, inquiring about paint colors and whether or not Harvey might want to convert one of the bedrooms into an office.

In a way, they deserved each other.

* * *

{ UNDER THE MISTLETOE }

When they arrived back in the city, Donna wasted no time in notifying Rachel of their special assignment. The inhuman squeal that emitted from her phone's speaker was confirmation enough that her friend was up to the task. Three weeks, $40,000 (give or take a few thousand), 36 gallons of paint and just about the entire Pottery Barn catalog later, Harvey Specter had himself a home, as opposed to just a house.

As expected, Donna and Rachel insisted on there being a measure of ceremony involved in the unveiling of their hard work (or rather, the hard work of their small army of painters and delivery staff). This meant leading a blindfolded Harvey through the foyer, removing the blindfold, and turning on the lights. _So this is what it feels like to be on one of those home renovation shows_ , Harvey thought.

And they really _had_ done an amazing job. It was classic farmhouse decor: rustic and cozy, warm and inviting. By the time they had finished partially stocking the wine cellar, both women wished that they were the ones that owned the place (especially since all of the nuance of their design choices would clearly be lost on Harvey).

A few days later, the invitations went out, hand-delivered by Harvey Specter himself to the only people he considered worth his while: Jessica, Louis, Donna, Gretchen, Mike and Rachel. He had pondered inviting Paula, his therapist, but ultimately decided against it. Some things were best left in the past.

After a rather impressive Christmas dinner prepared by Harvey, the seven arranged themselves around the fireplace, each coddling their beverage of choice: Jessica and Rachel sharing a bottle of Merlot; Mike, Harvey, and Donna making their way through a punch bowl of Wassail; Gretchen sipping a warm mug of coffee liqueur; and Louis mainlining eggnog like it was going out of style.

"Louis, Louis. Do you think you ought to ease up on the nog, maybe? You did just recently recover from a heart attack."

"No way, Harvey. It's just not Christmas if I can't have my nog. Which reminds me," wobbling to his feet, Louis raised a shaky glass. "I'd like to propose a toast."

"Ohhh boy," Mike whispered in Rachel's ear. "This ought to be good."

"To family," Louis said. "This is, by far, the best Christmas I've ever had...possibly because I don't actually celebrate Christmas. But more likely it's because I got to spend it with the people I love. After all, Pearson Specter Litt didn't get to be the best damn law firm in New York just by hiring the best lawyers. No, it got to be the best in part because of this," he gestured around the room. "Because we're a family. So… to us."

"To us!" everyone echoed, clinking their glasses in agreement. Harvey stole a glance at Donna only to find her staring determinedly at her shoes, her expression soft but inscrutable.

"Oh, and one more thing." Louis continued. "Harvey, I noticed that you do not have any mistletoe hanging around your house and I just wanted to tell you not to worry, because I brought some of my own, just in case."

It was amazing how quickly unanimous praise could turn into a unanimous groan.

"Oh come on, you guys. It's tradition."

"Aren't you Jewish?" Harvey asked with an air of exasperation.

"That's neither here nor there. Now, where can I put this?"

"I think that's my cue to leave," Jessica said when Louis had scurried off in search of the perfect mistletoe location. She quickly tossed back the rest of her wine.

"Me too," Gretchen said, getting slowly to her feet. "Mr. Specter, thank you for a lovely evening."

"I think it's about time you started calling me Harvey. And thank you...for saving my ass these past few months. I'd still be underwater if you hadn't showed up to that interview."

Gretchen glanced about the room. "I'd say saving your ass was a team effort," she smiled. "Merry Christmas, Harvey."

Harvey followed everyone as they made their way out to their cars. Gretchen and Louis had ridden together with a reluctant Jessica, and Rachel had borrowed her father's car to take her, Mike, and Donna.

"Guys! Guys, where are you going? You can't leave! The mistletoe, it's up!" Louis shouted from the porch steps, pointing above his head to where he had attached the mistletoe to a string of Christmas lights.

"You okay to drive?" Harvey asked Rachel.

"Yes, I'm completely fine. Though I don't think I can say the same about these two," she gestured toward Mike and Donna, who were practically in tears, giggling uncontrollably about God knows what. "You two get in the car, okay? I'll be right back...I think I left my phone on the counter."

Mike reached for Harvey's hand. "Thanks for having us, Harvey. Your house looks...incredible."

"Hey, the pleasure was all mine. Merry Christmas, Mike. ...You too, Donna."

Donna dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Merry Christmas Harvey," she said quietly, slipping into the back seat and shutting the door before any more could be said.

Louis straightened as Rachel approached the house, stepping aside so that he was no longer beneath the mistletoe. "Forget something or are you just here to make fun of me?"

"My phone," Rachel said. She watched as her breath curled into an icy cloud between them.

"Liar. Your phone's in your coat pocket, I can see it right there. Why'd you really come back?"

Rachel smiled. "For this." Grabbing two fistfuls of festive green sweatervest, she pulled a very stunned Louis into what he would later look back on as the best kiss of his life. "Merry Christmas Louis," she whispered in his ear before giving his cheek a playful tap.

"I––Merry…" Louis stuttered eloquently as she walked away. "God I love Christmas," he said to himself.

"Hey Eggnog," Harvey called from the garage. "Looks like your ride left without you. Come on, I'll take you home."

* * *

{ THE WEDDING }

Spring seemed to arrive faster than anyone expected, such that Mike and Rachel found the prospect of their wedding day becoming more and more real to them by the second.

However, by the time their rehearsal dinner rolled around, the two had ultimately reached a state of zen. After all, the time for checking and re-checking every last detail had passed. Nothing could possibly threaten their big day now.

Nothing except their idiot friends, that is.

It started with Harvey proposing a toast to the happy couple, which he concluded by saying to Mike, "I just hope that I can be as lucky as you one day."

It ended with a rather public shouting match outside the restaurant in which Donna dutifully reminded Harvey that he could have, in fact, had everything but that he _chose_ to throw it all away. That maybe if he wasn't so afraid to _feel_ something, he wouldn't be living all alone in a house meant for a family.

They rode home in separate cabs, Harvey opting to stay at his apartment in the city for the night.

The next time he saw her, they were lining up to process down the aisle.

"Look, I'm sorry about last night," Harvey said quietly as she slipped her arm through his.

"Forget about it," Donna replied.

"No, you were right. I––"

"I said, forget it," she hissed. "Our only job is to be here for Mike and Rachel today. That's it." They had nearly missed their cue to begin walking.

"Well then at least let me tell you that you look...incredible," Harvey whispered as they made their way down the aisle. She didn't reply, though he could swear he saw the corner of her mouth twitch ever so slightly upward.

It was the first time Harvey had really paid attention during a wedding. Previously, he had dismissed it all as meaningless drivel, hollow ceremony for the sake of ceremony. After all, how could marriage really mean something if it was so easily destroyed?

He knew better now: he was not his father. And more importantly, Donna was not his mother.

At the reception, he asked her to dance.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, reaching rather desperately for her champagne.

"Please? Just one dance, and then I promise I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."

She relented and he wasted no time in sweeping her onto the dance floor. The song was the Etta James classic, "At Last."

"They look really happy," Donna remarked wistfully. Harvey followed her gaze to Mike and Rachel, who were laughing and clinging to one another as they swayed to the music.

"They do," he replied gently. "Donna, I––"

"Do you think you'll ever get married?" she asked suddenly. "I mean, I don't think I've ever actually asked you: do you even _want_ to get married?"

"Yes... and yes," Harvey said. "I'm just...waiting for––"

"––waiting for the right girl to come along. Right." (Harvey silently wondered if she would ever let him finish a sentence.)

"Actually, I was _going_ to say that I'm just waiting for the right girl to forgive me...though I'm starting to lose hope that she ever will."

"Forgive you? For what?"

"For being such a colossal dick to her for the past twelve years."

Donna stopped moving, her mouth slightly agape. "Harvey…" she warned.

"You see," Harvey continued, pulling her back into step, "she put her entire life on hold, sacrificed _everything_ for me and I...I had my head so far up my own ass I couldn't even see it. I must have taken her for granted a million times and yet she still stayed with me."

"She sounds amazing," Donna joked in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

"She is. And yet the one time...the _one_ time she called me out on all of my bullshit...the one time she _dared_ to tell me that she wanted more...I got angry, and shut down. And I lost her."

Donna swallowed hard. "And what makes you think she'll never forgive you?"

"I hope to God she will one day," he said softly. "Because she is... _everything_ to me." They slowed to a stop as the song came to an end. A solitary tear began to make its way down Donna's cheek and Harvey swiped it away with his thumb. "The house? Making work less important? It's all for you, Donna. I love you."

She bit her lip. "Love me how?" Her voice was strained, her throat tight. He had no right to do this.

"Like this," Harvey said as he cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. And just like that, twelve years' worth of latent attraction came bubbling to a spectacular head, a messy, passionate tangle of fiery red and dirty blonde.

"I'm not coming back to work for you," Donna said breathlessly as Harvey planted kisses down her neck.

"I'd lose all respect for you if you did," he replied, returning his attention to her lips.

"Hey heyyyy!" Mike shouted suddenly, clapping and pointing in their direction. There was a smattering of whistles and applause, and out of the corner of his eye, Harvey could swear that he saw some of the associates begrudgingly exchanging wads of cash. Apparently there had been more than just his entire life's happiness riding on his success.

When the time had come to bid the happy couple farewell, Rachel gave Donna a playful nudge. "So...you and Harvey, huh?"

Donna smiled and shook her head. "Me and Harvey. Who would have thought?"

"You mean besides literally everyone, right?" Rachel laughed. "So, is he... is he serious? I mean, will I get my turn to plan _your_ wedding soon?"

"Oh, he's serious...but think it's a bit too soon for that," Donna said. She met Harvey's eyes across the room and wondered how long he'd been staring at her with that dumb dream-like look on his face. "Although," she said, turning her attention back to Rachel, "I _have_ heard it said that nothing beats autumn in New York."

 **Author's Note #2: It's a fact that given any story prompt, I will find a way to incorporate both Christmas and marriage, because I apparently have some kind of Yuletide matrimony disorder. Tell me to write a story about Harvey and Donna in the zombie apocalypse and I swear they will take time to celebrate Christmas and will probably get married. So anyway, feel free to leave a review, and hope you enjoyed the story.**


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